A man calls for wine while lying in bed, and the woman beside him, or near him, refuses to let him come to her. The poem tells us why in its last lines: she is jealous of the wine, the "other" that stands between him and trouble. Wine has become a rival, a third presence in the relationship.
The poem is only a few lines long, and its short, broken phrasing makes the moment feel hushed and a little awkward. Nothing is explained. We have to guess at the history behind it. The phrase "between him and trouble" suggests the man leans on drink as a kind of shield, something that softens or blocks whatever bothers him. The woman seems to want to be that comfort herself, and she can't.
Her feeling is hurt, with a touch of bitterness, but it is also oddly tender. The mood is quiet, tense, and lonely, like a late-night standoff where nobody raises their voice.